Shared Joy
by thisisnotmybeautifulhouse
Summary: "Laugh about this, and I'll kill you permanently."


**If this tells you anything, the file I have this saved in on my laptop is titled "fluffy fluff that is fluffy"** - **this fic is rolling in the good feelings, and has very little in the way of depth, but sometimes that kind of tooth-decaying fluff is good for the soul. **

**Anyway, I know it's categorized as Ron/Hermione - and it _is_ that pairing - but this is really more about the friendships Harry has with both of them than it is about Ron and Hermione.  
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**I originally wrote it to fill a prompt on the writing comm I'm a member of on lj.**

"Laugh about this, and I'll kill you permanently."

Harry eyes the robes his best friend wears and feels his lips twitch, threatening to turn up in an enormous grin. Somehow, instead of smiling like a fool, he manages to walk forward and straighten the other man's collar, and he says, "You look good, Ron."

Ron fidgets with the hem of his sleeve and shoots Harry a nervous look. "You sure? I feel ridiculous."

Clapping him on the back, Harry assures Ron, "Absolutely. There's not a hint of lace or maroon in sight. Trust me, she won't be able to take her eyes off of you."

"Unless she decides to run for the hills, you mean."

Harry scoffs at this. "Hermione? Run? Clearly the two of you haven't met. No mate, I reckon she's in this for the long haul. You're stuck with her, books and all."

Grimacing, Ron replies, "And the cooking. Let's not forget the cooking."

With a snort, Harry tells him, "So you'll lose a few stone – at least you'll have your love to keep you warm."

Ron's nose wrinkles. "I cannot believe you just said that. You've been listening to that Muggle music again, haven't you?"

Before Harry can remind his best friend that the music he's referring to was a gift from his bride, the door to Ron's room opens, and Mr. Weasley pokes his head in. "It's time, gentlemen. Are you both ready?"

"We're right behind you, sir," Harry replies, since Ron has started looking a little green, and it is uncertain whether he will be able to keep what little he managed to eat for breakfast down, should he open his mouth. "I'll have him down in a moment, even if I have to hex him into submission and drag him by his shoelaces."

Thankfully, the groom comes willingly, and Harry stands next to Ron, watching his two best friends marry. He can feel the ache in his muscles as they continue to stretch in the widest, proudest smile he has ever worn, looking for all the world as though it has been permanently etched on his face.

Everything goes according to plan, even the part of the ceremony where Harry must produce the rings from his robe pocket, for which he feels immensely grateful.

As the celebrations draw to a close, Harry sees his friend coming up to speak with him, and when he searches for Ron's better half, he spots her taking a turn around the recently conjured dance floor with her new father-in-law, talking animatedly and looking lighter and lovelier than ever before.

"So," he says when Ron finally reaches him, taking a sip of his champagne, "you finally tied the knot."

At his best friend's contented sigh, Harry knows that in this moment, everything in the world is perfect. "I finally did. Thanks for everything, mate. I couldn't have done this without you."

Feeling mischievous, Harry adopts a speculative look and says, "You know, Ron? You're right. Without me, you and Hermione would never even have become friends, let alone married. I think that deserves something special."

"Something like not jinxing you for how long it's taken you to beg my sister for a second chance?" Ron's query causes Harry to choke on his latest bit of champagne, and he looks up at his friend in shock, causing Ron to burst out laughing and pound him on the back. "The look on your face!"

Harry glares up at his best friend as he regains his breath, feeling his glasses start to slide down the bridge of his nose from leaning down for so long.

Sobering, Ron tells him, "You know I just want you both to be as happy as me and Hermione are."

Darkly, Harry replies, "Yeah, well, for that stunt you just pulled, I might just decide to make George my best man, instead of you," and pushes his spectacles back where they belong.

Ron gasps exaggeratedly and presses his hand to his heart. "That hurts, Harry. Right here."

"Harry James Potter, are you damaging my husband?" The two young wizards turn to face the woman of the hour, smiling at her impeccable imitation of Molly Weasley, her hands on her hips, her head tilted slightly to the side.

"Of course not, Mrs. Weasley. I would never do such a thing." Hermione cannot fight a girlish grin at her new name, destroying the image of the Weasley matriarch in preparation for a scolding.

"Well, see that it stays that way. Now, Mr. Potter. There's an important matter between the two of us."

Harry's not sure how he feels about the devious look in his best friend's eyes. "What would that be?"

"You haven't danced with me once, and that is a state of affairs which simply cannot be allowed." She holds out her hand and says, "Come on, Harry. I promise it won't hurt you. Or me." The last part, she adds as an afterthought, remembering Harry's performance at their disastrous Yule Ball with a wince.

With some gentle persuasion, Harry assents, moving resignedly around the dance floor. "How is it that I'm not stepping on your toes, Hermione?" He knows that he has - or should have, at any rate, and some of them would have really hurt.

Hermione's lips shift into a secretive little smile, and she leans up and whispers, "I've spelled my heels imperturbable," into his ear.

Harry laughs and brings his arms in close, keeping his friend there and commending her on her ever-present ingenuity. As he holds Hermione tightly, he knows that he will never forget this day, when all of his loved ones who remain on this earth are completely happy.


End file.
